Running Down the Dirt Road to Us: A Christmas Sermon

My friend Chris is one of the best dads I know.  He is a doctor but he always finds time to take his boys on scouting expeditions. His Facebook page is chock full of his two boys, always doing some activity or other, with the same smile on their faces. Those boys are well loved.

Last summer, Chris sent his oldest Mark, to a camp in Missouri. Chris lives in Texas, so this was the first time that Mark would have been away from home, far away from home. Mark had just finished fourth grade. Well, Mark was miserable. He sent a letter home every day. "I want to stick it out," he wrote, "But, dad, I just can't wait for you to come and get me." The camp was just two weeks long but it felt like an eternity.

Chris planned to fly to Missouri, rent a car and drive his boy home. He was so afraid of his airplane being delayed that he flew a whole day early, arriving on Thursday. He was supposed to pick up Mark on Friday evening at 5. He stayed in a hotel and drove around aimlessly all Friday morning. He ate lunch at some diner in the small town near the camp and then drove out arriving about 3 pm. There was a rope across the entrance to the dirt road that led to the camp. A sign on the rope read, "Parents are not allowed to pick up their children before 5 p.m. Please stay behind the rope." 

Other parents had already gathered, looking anxious and tired at the same time. They exchanged pleasantries, how old is your kid, is this his first year at camp, etc. All the questions were perfunctory because none of the parents were listening to each other. They all had their eyes glued to the dirt road. 

By about 4:30, the parents had grown in number. Chris realized that some of them had inched their way to the rope, so as be the first ones to make their way down the dirt road to their kids. Chris subtly moved himself in place. A woman behind him looked a bit overwhelmed by the crowd, but he didn't offer her his spot by the rope.

At 5, two counselors came out. They had enough sense not to step in front of the rope and get trampled by the stampede of desperate parents. Instead, they just stood at either end of the rope, untied it from the poles and let it fall to the ground.

And the parents were off. Chris said he started running like a maniac, all the way down that road. He was not in the greatest shape and got a large stitch in his side. He would do whatever it took to see his kid.

God feels the same. God will do whatever it takes to see his children, to take us home. Gods desire leaves us in the dust. Chris took a plane, rented a car and stayed in a hotel.  God gave up the glory of the cosmos to become a tiny child. Theologians like Saint Paul called this kenosis, the self-emptying of God. God had to bind the Divine self to earth, become finite, small, contained. God went from the infinity of heaven to the dirt of a tiny stable in the Middle East.

I often wonder why God was born in Bethelehem. Why did God chose to come to us in a dirty place where the animals slept, in a land where the ruler was willing to kill children just to make himself feel more secure? Why did God chose a land so violent? Mary and Joseph were so alone. Scholars have realized that not only was there no innkeeper in the gospel story, but the word for inn really means guest room. All we have is this one sentence in the gospel of Luke, "There was no room in the inn" but a better translation is "there was no room in the guest room." Joseph would have been knocking on the doors of people's homes, not of inns. And some of these people would have been his relatives since he was descended from the line of David. These people rejected a woman in labor and someone from their own family! Bethlehem was not a fairy tale. The evening of Christ's birth was beautiful because God made it so, but never forget for a moment that Jesus was born in the dirt, in a dangerous and violent world.

My next door neighbor in Kansas had a son who was diagnosed with leukemia. His treatments were terrible and he was just four. His dad looked like hell warmed over. I remember seeing him in the yard and asking how things were. "Kate, I can't make it better for him," he said. "That is the hardest part. I can only stay with him, hold him, just be there. But I can't fix it. He must fight this cancer himself to live."

I think of Chris, running down that dirt road to see his son.  I think of my neighbor holding his suffering child. We cannot fix the pain that our children have to endure, but we can be there for them, in the midst of it all, we can be there.

That is what Christmas is all about. It is about the gift of presence. Not presents. Presence. Being there with someone when things are hard and life seems almost unbearable. Have you ever noticed that if you try to fix your friends problems or give them advice that you really don't help them at all? God knows that we must struggle to find our way on this earth, that if God were to just fix the worlds problems, that we would learn nothing at all.  Jesus came to save us just by being with us. God became a helpless child just to be with us.

And if God was born in Bethlehem, then God is with us whenever we struggle. God is here with my neighbor and his four-year-old boy as he fights for his life. God is in Peshawar, Pakistan when children are killed in a school. Jesus is right there beside a baby girl who is abandoned in China just because she is a girl.  Jesus is there and when the world seems so awful that we cannot make sense of it. God says, here I am.  I am willing to run down that dirt road into the mess of this world just to hold you. Merry Christmas.

Imagine This

When I was four, I had my first role in the Christmas pageant. I was not even baptized yet and someone decided that I should carry a teddy bear down the center aisle and put in in the manger beside the baby Jesus. My mom was really nervous that I would not be able to make it up the aisle. She thought I might chicken out or just start crying or something. But instead,  I grabbed that teddy bear by the leg, dragged him up the center aisle, and proceeded to dump that bear in the manger. I then marched, with determination and all seriousness, back to my seat.

Only in years later did I get to play Gabriel and announce to Mary that she would have a child. 

This year, we have some new developments, like two female Wise Men and someone gave us pig costumes so we have lots of pigs along with the sheep. But I believe that each child will never forget their part in the story. Just as I have never forgotten being in the Christmas pageant.

Why do we do the same thing every year? Why do we reinact the event of Christ's birth and let children be the players? Why do we tell the same story over and over and over again?

Carl used to work at Belk before he was ordained. One day, a young man came in to buy a cross. He pointed to a crucifix under the glass and said, "I would like to try that one, the one with the little man on it." 

The little man?? The little man? Could it be possible that we now live in a world where people don't even know who Jesus was? Now he is just the little man?

St Ignatius was a Spanish knight who lived in the early 1500's. He was critically wounded in battle and almost died. When he was recovering, Ignatius had to lie still but his mind could wander. Ignatius had an active and vivid imagination. But he began to notice that when he daydreamed about being a saint, he felt better. When he daydreamed about winning wars or making money or finding romance, he just found that the end result was that he felt more lonely. So Ignatius began to imagine the best things of all, that he could be part of the life of Jesus of Nazareth.

He imagined what it would be like to be a shepherd on that holy night when Jesus was born.  Was it cold? What did it look like when the angels appeared in sky and sang glory to God in the Highest? Did their wings cover the skies? Did they blend with the moonlight? Was it terrifying? Could the sheep see it too?

Lying in bed, Ignatius discovered a profound kind of prayer. He discovered that by daydreaming, by putting yourself inside the story, you can find yourself there. And you can see things more clearly.

Why do we reinact the pageant every year? Because children are born with both an innate sense of the spiritual and with healthy imaginations. And why should we not encourage them to imagine that they too were there on that holy night? Why should they not imagine this? Doesn't God want them there? Isn't that exactly where they should be?

And also, a child will never forget who Jesus is if he or she acts out the story of Jesus' birth. That child will never refer to Christ hanging on a cross as "that little man," if they remember that God was born in human form. 

Much of what the Bible demands can be simply put in one word: Remember. Remember God and what God has done for you. It's when we forget that our hearts wander and we are lost.

Time and again, Moses begged the people to Remember. Remember that you were slaves in Egypt. Remember the Sabbath day. The great danger for the people of God, even before Jesus came, was amnesia, the danger of forgetting who they were. It is like a woman with amnesia who has lived a long and happy life and who loves her husband above all others. But when she begins to wander away from home, he finally has to move her into assisted living facility. Over time, to his shock and grief, he watches his wife. She forgets who she is and becomes more and more emotionally attached to a man who lives in her unit. As she forgets, her heart wanders.

And so we as a people are called to fix our love on God and remember who we are and who God is. And we remember by inviting our children to live into the story of Jesus' birth, to BE the angels and the shepherds and the camels and the innkeeper...and we pray that as they dream and play, they remember who they are and what God did for us in sending us Jesus.

When Martin Luther, the great church reformer of the 1500's, was under attack or began to doubt his work, he would mutter to himself, "Remember, Martin Luther, you are baptized!" He would blurt this out at the oddest times, to get himself grounded again, to focus on what was really important.

And all throughout our lives, when we are on the verge of despair, let us repeat the same... Remember, that you are baptized...Remember the holy child. Come to the manger once more and remember who you are!

Imagination is a great form of prayer. Imagine what it was like on that holy night when God became a human being. Imagine if you too were there, sitting in the shadows in that tiny space with animals and dirt and a poor homeless couple, worn out and cold. Imagine that you could see the face of that baby. And for just a moment, glimpse the inconceivable fact that God would limit Himself to such a degree, to become helpless, just to be with us. Sit in that tiny space on that cold night. Be there with him. That is what Ignatius did. That is what we are inviting our children to do.

Make His Paths Straight

Francisco Anglero was born in Puerto Rico in 1944. His family moved to Brooklyn NY in 1949. Cisco was dark skinned and couldn't speak English well so he was beaten up almost every time he went out in the neighborhood. By the time he was old enough to defend himself, he was so full of rage that he beat his bullies with a baseball bat. By the time he was a teenager, he took up body building. Soon he had a reputation and was hired as a bouncer at bars. Eventually, he became a drug dealer.

Cisco's life was made up of violence and chaos. There was only one place of peace and love in his life.

Whenever Cisco came home, even as a small boy, his mother, who had worked hard cooking and cleaning all day, would be sitting in a rocking chair reading her Bible. Though their apartment was cluttered and crowded, there was a clear path from the front door to her rocking chair in the living room. Cisco would walk towards his mother and she would smile at him, rock in her chair and say, "thank God, my son, that you are safe."

Cisco never thought about his mother much. But she was always there, straight across the room, rocking in her chair and loving him. He would walk towards her and she would smile every time and thank God for his safety.

When Cisco was 22, his mother died suddenly and his life really began to spiral out of control. Cisco finally was caught with drugs and thrown in jail. Two men in prison kept asking him to come to church services but he refused. He would turn up his Walkman really loud, roll over in bed, and ignore them. But the men came every week. They would not give up. It really irritated him.

One Sunday morning, the men came by and Cisco started to ignore them but his Walkman wouldn't work. He tried to turn on the TV. It too wouldn't work. He had just replaced the batteries in his walkman. Why wasn't it working? And what about the TV? He said no to the men and rolled over in bed but all he could hear was the other guys snoring and all of a sudden he was crawling out of his skin. So he got up and went to church.

He stood in the back while the people sang. And there, up at the front, he saw his mother. She was looking right at him, singing and smiling. When they asked people to come forward, she waved him up. He saw the path, the aisle between the metal folding chairs, wide open and he walked toward her. Cisco received the bread and the wine and his life changed forever. Leaving the altar, he looked back and his mother was no where to be seen. But he knew that everything had changed for him. Somehow, his love for his mother had given him a way to find God.

John the Baptist gave up a life of privilege as the high priests son to go out into the wilderness alone and listen for God. As Zechariah's son, John would have had the best education, a beautiful home, good food. Everyone expected great things from the high priests son. But John had other plans. John knew that the Messiah was going to come into the world and that he had to leave his life of privilege in order to make room for Christ to come.  He left his parents, his home, his education and he lived as a homeless man in the wilderness. People thought he had gone mad. Why would he give all that up?  People came out to see him and John kept yelling, over and over again, "make your paths straight!"

"Make your paths straight!"

I never understood what John meant.

What does a path have to do with anything? And why do we need to make it straight?

Have you ever been lost in the woods and you can't see where you are going? Have you ever been so busy or angry or so sad that you feel totally lost?

I think John was talking about making room for Christ to find you. John was talking about making room in your life, a straight path for God to find you. I think of the way John left wealth and privilege to make room for God. I think of the way that Cisco, when his life was nothing but chaos and violence, saw a clear path from the front door of his apartment to his mother's rocking chair. And it was that one person who truly loved him, his mother, that was the straight path that he found to God, when the rest of his life was cluttered with violence, fear and anger. When God called him, God simply showed him the path to his mother.

How can God reach you if you are so busy that there is no way to find you? Have you covered yourself with self-pity or grief or worry? We must clear a path, make a way for us to find God and for love to find us.

In New England, when it snows, the very next morning you must go outside with a shovel and work really hard to clear a path to your front door, to shovel out your driveway. This work is back-breaking. In the same way, when we go through hardships, loss or pain, they can blanket our lives, absorbing our every thought, our every moment.  In these times, we must work extra hard to clear a path for God, to find a way back to love. 

Making room in your life for God in this day and age is hard work. There are so many reasons why you can't make time for church or for prayer. Travel, work, family obligations...they prevent us from taking time to worship. They clutter our lives and they seem so urgent at the time. One family I know just realized that they didn't have time for church anymore. But what happens when there is no room in your life for God at all? What happens when there is no path for Christ to come? Is anything worth blocking his way to you? Is anything really that important? We all have the same number of hours in the day. Have you carved out a few of those hours for God?

You have only two more Sundays until Christ's birth. Clear away the clutter and find a path to Him. It is never too late.

The King and the End of All Things

On this day, Dr Mary Neal, an orthopedic surgeon, will tell us what happened to her when she died. Today is the final Sunday of the Christian year. Next week, we start a whole new year with the season of Advent. Today we are not afraid to talk about the end, the end of life as we know it and even the end of time itself.  Today is about what happens at the end.

Christians call this Sunday Christ the King Sunday because we read gospel accounts which talk of Jesus Christ as a King, who, in the end of days, will sit on his throne and determine who goes to heaven and who goes to hell. The King sits in his throne, according to Matthew's gospel, and he separates the sheep from the goats.  But in order to begin to understand what Jesus was trying to tell us, we have to understand what it meant to be a King. 

Sheep verses goats.

Today, when we say the word King, we think of Disney world, make believe, or some form of formal monarchy like in Britain, a monarchy that it is more about old traditions and celebrity than about actual power. Kings just don't exist in modern, enlightened countries anymore, or, if they do, they are just figureheads.

For the Jewish community of Jesus' day, a King still meant something. A King was the source of ultimate authority. To have a successful monarchy, like that of King David, was to ensure stability. It was an end to chaos. A truly good king was their best hope for peace, finally having wisdom to rule the land. It was the best of all worlds, to live under a good king. It was paradise. Just as a bad king could bring terror and famine, a good king could bring a golden age.  A good king could fix all your problems and make everything right.

Jesus was telling us that he is the King. Christ is in charge and that should come as a great relief. It would not have been a source of terror for those who loved him but a source of relief.

Today it is hard for us to imagine any one person having that kind of lasting authority. We want to be in charge of our own lives, to order our own food, to chose our own education, to determine our own destiny. The rise of technology has led us to believe that we can answer any question on our own. Who needs a King when I can fix my problems myself?

 My oldest son was asking an atheist why he chose not to believe in God. He said that he refused to believe in a God who would allow humans to suffer. So basically, when he didn't understand God or  disagreed with God, he would just stop believing, like turning off a switch. Oh, I don't want you, God. I chose not to believe in you. I chose for you not to exist. Now, who is the King in that scenario? Who are we to determine the existence of God based on whether we approve of the workings of the Universe? Who are we to switch channels from believer to atheist to agnostic depending on our evaluation of God's behavior? It is not like visiting websites or buying a new car. When it comes to God, we cannot think of ourselves as consumers. Who is in charge of who?

In the same vein, we often want to determine the salvation of those around us. When someone dies, we tell each other that the person is going to heaven. Notice that there is never talk of hell at funerals.  But the reality of this gospel text is that there is such a place as hell, the alternative to being with God, a place of pain and alienation from God. More importantly, this text tells us that no one but God determines who goes where. It is Christ who makes the call and separates the sheep from the goats. (I always feel bad for the goats...I think they are great. But the reason Jesus uses an image of sheep and goats is that sheep follow the shepherd, while goats do their own thing and tend to roam)  To say that all are going to heaven is as arrogant as saying that certain people are going to hell. It is the language of judgement and arrogance and ultimately of violence because it is not our job to act as King. Only the Holy One sits on the throne. Whenever we try to enthrone ourselves, we do violence and make terrible mistakes. 

The truth is that there is so much that we still do not understand. We may have all kinds of knowledge at our fingertips, but there is still so much more that we can't even begin to contemplate.

Quantum Physicists tell us that the more that we learn about the workings of the Universe, the more we realize how little we know. The more we realize that we are not the King. To learn at the highest human levels is ultimately to become more humble. Wisdom actually begins when we acknowledge our ignorance.

A few days ago, I was driving home in San Marco. I was thinking about work and I was about to make a phone call on my cell phone when a small but fierce crossing guard starting blowing her whistle frantically and marched out into the street towards my car. She stared me down and made such a racket with that whistle that I slowed almost to a stop. It turns out that I was going too fast. It was a 15 mile an hour zone because the kids were just about to get out of school. She was waking me up to the fact that I could hurt someone if I didn't slow down. Once I was nearly stopped  she nodded and smiled at me, as if to say, "Good. You heard me." 

5 foot nothing and full of authority, she was right.

Jesus is blowing a whistle with this story. Is it designed to frighten you? Maybe a little bit. I am not opposed to a hellfire and brimstone in the Episcopal church for a change! Because the truth is that it is not OK to just do what you like with your life. No, how you treat others, especially the poor, has a direct impact on your salvation. So slow down and pay attention to what you are doing with your time, with your life. It does matter. We don't know how, because we are not the King, but we need to be concerned with the matter in which we live our lives.

In this story, salvation has everything to do with recognition. When you serve God, you come to know God, and when you die, the King recognizes you. If you race through life doing what you want, if you live your life like a goat and do not follow Jesus and you don't take time to get to know the King, the Holy One won't know you. "I do not know you," he says. "I have not had a relationship with you." 

When someone comes to your front door, you let them in if you know them. That is what the King does. Salvation is based on recognition and relationship.

We don't know exactly what will happen at the end of our lives or at the end of days, but we know what we need to know. We know that serving God in this life matters, that there is a judgement and that we are to take our faith seriously. The whistle is blowing even now. Slow down and make sure that you come to know the King.

Oil for Your Lamps

It's not every day that two members of this Cathedral are on the front page of the Florida Times Union. Congratulations to John Corse and Ed Graves, two of the four swimmers whose collective ages total 362 years, which means that their average age is 90. They recently won 14 events in the Rowdy Gaines Masters Classic in Orlando. As John said, there are not many in their age bracket. They seem to win mostly by outlasting the competition. They have been swimming together three times a week for many years and continue to compete. What an example for us all. They keep moving and acting as if they are young, and lo and behold, they are still carrying the torch. They are incredible!

How do we keep our light shining? How do we keep young and fit, and not just physically but spiritually? How can we make it through the struggles and challenges of this life and not get beaten down and still find joy?

The season of Advent is rapidly approaching and already we are hearing echoes of Christ's coming in Scripture. Already, we are told to wait, to keep our lights burning, our lamps lit. Jesus tells us to be ready, for when he comes, we want to recognize him. 

Jesus tells us a story this morning about a wedding banquet. When it comes to alluding to heaven, Jesus often talks about parties or banquets. There was no better comparison for heaven itself than a great party, full of joy and celebration. And in Jesus' day, there was no greater party than a wedding banquet.

Scholars have not been entirely able to piece together the events of a New Testament wedding at the time of Jesus. We don't know the exact order of events but we do know that the wedding was a whole series of parties and banquets, often lasting up to one week. We also know that it was the single greatest celebration in that culture, for a man was about to leave his father and mother and make new life with a woman. It was a celebration of procreation itself, of the miracle of childbirth and the continuation of the family line. And much of the ceremony had to do with moving the bride from her parents house to the home of the bridegroom. 

A number of bridesmaids would gather at the home of the bride in the evening. They would be carrying lamps, lit with oil. We don't know if these lamps were simply pieces of wood, wrapped in material that was dipped in oil or if they actually were some kind of enclosed fire. The gospel mentions trimming their wicks, so the old parts of the lamp that had burned would be trimmed back and more oil had to be added in some way if they were to last a long time.

Once their lamps were lit, the bridesmaids would then escort the bride to the home of the bridegroom, where the bride would enter and become his wife. One theory is that once the marriage was consummated, the bridegroom would open the doors of his home and invite the bridesmaids inside to a great banquet, a great feast, where all his friends and relatives would be gathered. And everyone would eat and dance and celebrate love and life itself.

In this parable, there are ten bridesmaids, five are wise and five are careless. They walk to the home of the groom and wait outside for the party. This waiting takes awhile and they all go to sleep, as it is late at night. But only the five wise bridesmaids bring extra oil. Only the wise have a reserve. When the bridegroom opens the door to let them in, they must have their lamps lit so that he can see them. When the five foolish bridesmaids realize that their lamps have burnt out, they ask for oil from the wise bridesmaids but the wise ones tell them that they do not have enough and the foolish are forced to go and buy more. By the time that the foolish bridesmaids return, the bridegroom has shut the door. So the foolish bridesmaids knock and the bridegroom opens the door but does not recognize them and will not let them in. Presumably, many others have knocked and tried to enter as well and the bridegroom does not know that these ones are bridesmaids. Their chance is lost because they did not bring enough reserve.

Did you know that you can store up love and joy in your heart? Did you know that gratefulness actually multiplies but so does despair? Just like John and Ed swim three times a week and build up strength in their bodies, so we can practice thanksgiving and joy in an effort to wait for God.

Most of us have already experienced both great joy and great pain in this life. Your identity, your knowledge of your self and the way that you picture your life will come from these experiences. You can choose who you are and what you store up for yourself. Do you hold onto grudges and unfair circumstances? There are plenty to pack away in baggage that you can carry everywhere, you know. Or are you able to forgive the past mistakes that you and others have made? Can you hold onto the memories of happiness that you have, moments of insight, time spent with loved ones, inexplicable glimpses of beauty? What do you hold in your reserves?

The oil that the wise bridesmaids carried with them was fuel for burning, for making light. It illumined who they were so that the bridegroom could see them and invite them in. When Christ comes again, will you be lit up with thanksgiving, or will your life be shrouded in the grey matter of worry and doubt and despair? Love burns brightly. Gratitude burns brightly. And every one of us has something that we can be thankful for.

In 2011 a Canadian rabbi named Ronnie Cahana had a stroke. He was 57. He lost his ability to move any part of his body. He was paralyzed from the neck down, had to be on a ventilator. When his daughter came to him in the ICU, she began to speak aloud the alphabet. He would blink when she came to the correct letter. Slowly, she wrote down his first communication. "Kitra, my beauty, don't cry. This is a blessing." He would later go on to tell her that there are no dead ends, only doors to move through. He would remain grateful for his life, and become an inspiration to many. 

As you begin to think of the coming of Christmas, think of the true gifts that God has already given you. Know that Jesus wants you to come inside his kingdom, his banquet, but he will not recognize you if you have covered yourself up with fear and resentment. Who is it that you chose to be?  A child of the light or a child of the darkness? What is in your reserve? What do you practice? Resentment or Thankgiving? Fear or hope? Self-pity or awareness? What is in your reserve?

John and Ed get into that cold water three times a week to praise life, even when it hurts. They keep their lamps lit even as they age. Keeping joyful is not easy. It is work. It is choosing, every day, to see the good, to give thanks for the gift of life, even when it hurts. Keep your lamps lit with joy for the greatest joy awaits you and Christ always recognizes a grateful heart.